


Our silence

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Drabble, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:44:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1997181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <br/>
    <i>Contrary to popular belief, Akashi Seijūrō has a heart. And, as such, it makes him susceptible to human frailties, responsive to human emotion. And, every so often, the red-haired prodigy craves to be that.</i>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <i>And just that.</i></p>
  <p>    <i>Human.</i><br/></p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Our silence

**Author's Note:**

> I was in need of a good brain purge, and this (amongst other mindless things) is what came out. There's not plot or direction, it's just fluff and good feels all round. And... I'm not nearly as apprehensive about posting this as I am about my other things. Anyway, read and enjoy. And let me know what you think. Please excuse any spelling and grammatical errors, I edited it on auto-pilot.
> 
> Notes on my long story (Acquisition): Yeah, it's gonna be a while, I'm sorry.

Contrary to popular belief, Akashi Seijūrō has a heart. Not just the physical, flesh-and-blood one required to sustain life, but the metaphysical one that represents all those abstract things that ordinary words can't quite capture. This is not to say, of course, that the former captain of the basketball team of prodigies is overly emotional. It just makes him... human.

And, as such, makes him susceptible to human frailties, responsive to human emotion. And, every so often, the red-haired prodigy craves to be that.

And just that.

Human. Without the armour of fine education and diplomatic speech. Without the mask of stoic disinterest and subtle condescension. Without the veil that hides the boy that resides within the man.

At such times, there is one person whom Akashi trusts enough to hand over his weaknesses to, for he knows that they will be handled with a warm, yet sturdy hand.

For his part, Kuroko Tetsuya delights in the knowledge that the redhead trusts him enough to be the one thing he can't be—won't be—with anyone else. Naked. Not physically so, though that had become a somewhat regular occurrence since attending university. Rather, in the kind of way that could break a man. Kuroko relishes the comfortable silence that shelters the moments of vulnerability that Akashi willingly shares with him.

Like now, seated on the ostentatiously priced couch in Akashi's apartment—the place he occupies while attending school—gaze focusing on nothing in particular. That is until it drifts down to his lap, where Akashi is resting his head. His usually alert eyes are closed, on a face clear of everything but contentedness, body unashamedly limp. The late afternoon sunlight seeps in through the large windows and spreads across half of the redhead's face, painting him in quiet yellows and subdued oranges. Illuminating him like a sort of celestial being, not belonging to mere mortals. Kuroko softly runs his fingers through the light-stained, red strands of his former captain's hair, trying very hard to stifle the smile that tugs at his lips.

The moment is painfully domestic, but he cannot bring himself to mind. Because, when Akashi bares himself so willingly, and allows himself to simply be, Kuroko can't help but feel that he must have done something spectacularly impressive to be allowed to bear witness to it. Then Akashi sighs his... satisfaction? Peace? Whatever it may be, it is deeply intimate, like a lover's familiar caress over bare skin. As heavy and tangible as an anchor, yet as vague and fleeting as morning fog.

They don't exchange words, not until each has drank his fill of the other's company. Something that may take minutes or an entire afternoon. So, they stay like this. Kuroko doesn't know for how long, Akashi doesn't really care, until the redhead opens his eyes and scarlet meets cerulean. A small, telling smile touches Akashi's lips faintly, and Kuroko responds with his own. The moment is not lost, it simply shifts, and changes shape.

While everyday with Akashi may be something of a battle of wit and strategy—against each other, or together, against some outside force—these isolated havens of quiet liaison are the fuel that keep this ship afloat and moving. It's an ever-changing motion, like the tides.

“We should start on dinner,” Akashi states unexpectedly, but doesn't move. Kuroko stares at him blankly for a moment before retracting his hand.

“Well,” he says, eyes peering to the side a little. “I'm not cooking. It's your turn. And... you're better at it.”

“That's only because you don't really try,” Akashi retorts dryly, rising up slowly and elegantly, as though he hadn't spent the last goodness-knows-how-long lying on his back on an expensive, yet, still uncomfortable couch. The atmosphere has changed, and they're back to their norm. A fine sheath of wit and sarcasm that fails to cover the admiration, respect, and fondness they share for each other.

Silence is serene and always a welcomed change, but you cannot have it all the time, or you might die a dull death. The noise of everyday life—whether from the outside world or from themselves—makes it easier to appreciate the quiet. But, since they are who they are, slipping into the rhythm of their everydayness, is as easy as changing steps is for a seasoned dance couple.

“Why should I try when you're here? You cook, very well, I must say. And I wash up. It's all very symbiotic.”

“Yet _still_ unequal.”

With a hidden smile on Kuroko's face, they make their way to the large kitchen, where Kuroko proceeds to plop himself down on one of the high chairs that line the island, while Akashi appraises the contents of the refrigerator.

“Let's have burgers,” Kuroko suggests, if only to get a rise out of the redhead.

“No. You spend far too much time around that Kagami and his western influences as it is. It's ruining the already precarious balance in your diet.” Akashi pins him with a sidelong glance then. “We're having something more wholesome.”

Kuroko shrugs, unable to hide the hint of fondness in his eyes as he watches Akashi move about the room with a grace and efficiency he is certain was never meant for the kitchen, but suits the redhead all the same. He sighs softly, and he'll be rebuking himself for such adolescent behaviour later.

_I think I may love you_ , he muses inwardly. Not quite ready to voice it as yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments, (constructive) criticism, kudos are always welcome
> 
> (Note: 23/07/2014) So, for now, I'll be taking a mini-hiatus for a while--to clear up my brain. I will be back, though :)


End file.
